


Reaching Out

by AifasInTheSky



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: (I'll add tags as the story updates), Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mystery, Temporary Amnesia, Tf2 secret Santa 2018
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-27 00:23:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17151809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AifasInTheSky/pseuds/AifasInTheSky
Summary: He lost his memory. Everyone knows more than they clearly want to let show; especially the doctor. And he gets the feeling he's key to understand what's going on.





	Reaching Out

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nova (spacesucculant)](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Nova+%28spacesucculant%29).



His head feels like it’s going to implode.

He grinds his teeth and grits his eyes, making a grab for his hair with both hands and knocking off something – something leathery, something that weights too much at the moment. An explosion reverberates outside, and the rumble makes his brain rattle into his skull. He falls on his knees, gasping, feels the floor in search of something to ground him, to keep him floored despite the pressure that’s overwhelming his senses.

He doesn’t understand.

Steps. One, two; now backing off.

“Oh hell. Oi, Medic!!”

He wants whoever this is to shut the bloody hell up. He wants for everything to stop. He wants something, anything, to end this.

Someone else comes. He barely registers a gasp and- suddenly something envelops him, something warm that makes him want to throw up at first but then… then it must be doing something because the pain in his head recedes and he gasps in relief and opens his eyes and his vision swirls, then gets back in place and he can focus on the pair of grey running shoes in front of him. He doesn’t dare to look up. He’s not sure he can.

He’s so tired right now.

“What in Himmel happened?” he hears, before everything goes black.

\-----

He opens his eyes to a grey ceiling and soft cooing.

He lifts himself up with his elbows and groans. Everything’s blurry at first, but after blinking a few times, several things come into focus: a set of surgical tools on a platter, some sort of… cannon, a desk, a framed picture of a lanky, long-faced man with an embarrassed smile, a set of labelled jars- wait, does that say… pig eyes?

Another coo startles him. He turns his head and meets the red eye of a white dove, staring at him from the back of a chair at his side. He holds his breath so as to not startle it – the dove examines him, tilts its head; its eyes seem to bore into his soul.

“H-hi there,” he says, smiling nervously at it.

The bird suddenly jumps and starts flying in circles, cooing agitatedly. Several coos come from above, answering to it – he lifts his head again to find at least a dozen doves flapping their wings in alarm from different points of the room.

The door opens. A man runs into the room – a doctor, if his clothes say anything – holding his round spectacles in one hand and waving the other one, shooing the bird away.

“Archimedes, calm down! Don’t upset him!”

After the dove takes its perch over the strange cannon, ruffling its feathers – it looks so indignant – the other birds calm down. The doctor sighs, then looks at him. He jolts, as if realizing for the first time that he’s awake.

“Mein Gott, you almost gave me a heart attack,” he says in a heavy foreign accent. He looks relieved, then furious. He straightens as he advances on him, an accusatory finger pointed at his chest. “See where your schtupid… utter _pigheadedness_ landed you – did you even think- no, of course you didn’t, you-” He laughs mirthlessly.

He needs to stop this before it escalates further.

“Wait, doc, hold on a second.”

“What for? You have no right to play innocent, after you just- just disregarded everything for one single-”

“Who are you?”

The doctor freezes.

“Don’t play dumb, Sniper. How dare you-”

“I’m not!” He raises his hands in a placating manner. “I swear! I don’t know what’s going on!”

The doctor searches his gaze. His eyes glint in comprehension, and his face drops.

“Scheisse.”

“Doc, I… I don’t know what I did, but- do you…” he gulps. “Do you know what happened to me?”

“How much do you remember?” The doctor walks with brisk steps towards his desk, grabbing a clipboard and then presumably searching for something to write with.

“I… not much.” He sighs. Something occurs to him. “Hey Doc, can you hand me a mirror or something?”

“A- oh.” The doctor gulps. He drops the clipboard, opens a drawer of the desk and retrieves a rectangular one. “Here.”

He grabs its steel handle and looks at his reflection.

He almost drops the mirror.

He’s the man in the picture.

\-----

Before he can ask anything, the doctor starts asking him more questions, clinical and detached. He answers them as best as he can, which is… not much. He’s Australian, and he’s not in Australia right now… He’s an only child, and his parents are alive; he remembers that. But he can’t remember anything else. Where he is, the year they’re in, his exact age – he must be close to his thirties? His… his name…

“You called me ‘Sniper’, right?”

The doctor stops writing. He looks at him, as if considering something.

“Yes, I did.”

That must be a nickname. They must be close, if there’s a picture of him on his desk. He wonders why he’s acting so cold right now – is it what he mentioned before? He must have done something dumb, or at least dangerous. The man is probably worried as hell.

“I…” He clears his throat, unsure. “I’m sorry.”

The doctor looks stunned.

“What? Why?”

“I probably went and did something real stupid back then, and I must have worried you – besides giving you extra work.” He looks to the side. “Sorry, mate.”

He feels very awkward, talking to someone who knows him better than he himself does. It’s extra unnerving the fact the man doesn’t reply instantly.

A chuckle. Another one. Suddenly the doctor starts cackling, leaving him perplexed.

“Ahh,” he manages, wiping a tear of mirth from his eyes. “Excuse me, mein freund, it’s just... nothing you would understand.” He feels his gut churn with anxiety. The doctor looks back at him, one corner of his mouth upturned. “I cannot ask for much right now, can I? But for what it’s worth… It’s okay, Herr Sniper.”

He doesn’t feel very convinced, but he supposes he’ll settle with that for now.

\-----

His head, to his complete surprise, doesn’t hurt anymore, not even a bit. Whatever the doctor’s done, it’s worked wonders. He wishes for a moment that it’d brought his memories back, but immediately feels guilty for it – the doctor’s done enough for him.

Although he could’ve given him more details about who he is, to be honest.

When he asked him about it, he told him he’d be given him the information little by little, so as to not give him a shock – that would be very unadvisable, he said. He agrees, but it’s still somewhat unsettling, knowing he doesn’t know something he should.

He knows, by what the doctor told him, that he’s on some sort of base – not military, but similar. They are in the middle of a war, and he’s one of the fighters. He ought to have felt worse than he actually did when he learnt that, but… he felt like, somehow, it made sense. He’d supposed he'd probably be sent back home now that he wouldn’t be able to fight – is there even anyone waiting him there? – but the doctor had shaken his head, and told him that wouldn’t be the case. He doesn’t know what kind of group would keep broken soldiers in its lines, but then again… he could get his memories back soon. And it’d be a waste to make him leave like that.

He figures he was a pretty good fighter, seen as he definitely didn’t die, though he wonders what he did, because he definitely doesn’t look very er… athletic. Maybe he really was a sniper – scratch that, he absolutely was one. At the very least, that’d explain the nickname and his general disposition.

He wants to ask the doctor about the picture on his desk, but he hasn’t been given any opportunity. So he’s resolved to do it as soon as he comes back.

The door slams open and he jumps in shock. The doves flutter in their perches, cooing in alarm. A man clad in a red jacket and a military helmet – a soldier? – advances with broad steps towards him.

“I came to debrief you, soldier!” he yells, really loudly. He cringes as the man grabs him by the vest and makes him sit up even straighter. “Get up, maggot, no slouching is allowed, under no circumstances!” He squints at him. “Where’s the rest of your uniform?”

“Er… What?”

“It doesn’t matter! I will start before we run out of time!” The man straightens, bringing his hands behind his back. “Fist of all: you failed!” He snarls. “You had a task and you went against it and put yourself in risk and with that the whole outcome of the mission! Are you aware,” the man bends forward menacingly; he gulps. “Are you completely aware of the fact you’re an utter failure and a disgrace to the team?!”

“Y-yes, sir!”

“No stuttering!”

“Yes, sir!” he makes a salute as best as he can.

“Perfect. Now,” the man backs away a bit, and he feels he can breathe again. “Know that I support you one hundred percent!”

… What?

“What your comrade did was absolutely reprehensible! If it had been me I would have done ten times worse! One hundred laps every day for a month! Cleaning duty every weekend for two months! Three months without Engie’s food!” He huffs. “He should have paid, not you, private.”

He’s confused as hell. What the bloody hell happened-

“So! We will all hold the front for you! But we need all the available men to win this battle, so get better fast, maggot! The kraut better does his work or I’ll do it for him!” He looks pensive for a moment. “Hmmm, what if a hit on the head-”

He’s thinking quickly on the quickest way to get away from the man when the door slams open again. The doctor’s standing there, chest heaving, looking at them in alarm.

“Soldier!”

“ _You!!_ ” The soldier turns towards him, raising his volume even more. “I will have words with you later, maggot.” He snarls and, to his relief, strides away from him and exits the room, pushing the doctor away.

The doctor fixes his uniform and glares in the direction the man presumably headed off. He then turns his head, looking at him worriedly.

“Are you alright?” He approaches him, grabs his head and examines it, looking for lumps. He exhales with relief when he doesn’t find any. “I swear to god, that idiot…”

“I’m okay, doc,” he brushes him away, feeling his cheeks redden. “He just… yelled at me? I think he had good intentions.” But thank god the doctor arrived right then.

“Yeah, sure he had but he’s… ugh.” He shakes his head. He seems pretty agitated – his hands tremble a bit on his head before he releases it and clasps them together. “Nevermind. I was just about to tell you that you’re free to go.”

“Go?” He fidgets in his seat.

“Yes. I cannot do more for you here.” His stomach drops. “You need to go and we will see what happens – also the rest is worried about you.”

Oh, right. They must have teammates.

“Are they a lot?” he asks, somewhat worriedly. He doesn’t feel like talking to a multitude right now. Besides, he doesn’t know what to think of the rest after his latest visitant.

“Don’t worry, we are just a few. Also I have already had a few words with them, they will know not to mess with you. Or else.” The doctor’s grin at the end makes him shiver. Bloody hell, he gets the feeling he doesn’t want to get on his bad side.

“Er, alright. Thanks, doc.”

“Think nothing of it, mein freund.”

He nods, and slides off the gurney.

“Ah! Wait a second,” the doctor says, and runs towards a side door, disappearing into another room. He doesn’t have much time to wonder before he comes back, a brown hat and a pair of yellow sunglasses in hand. “These are yours.”

He grabs them and puts them on; their weight feels… right.

“Thanks, mate,” he says with a smile.

The doctor inclines his head, hands on his back. All the doves coo together from above.

\-----

As soon as he comes out of what is surely the infirmary, he almost crashes onto a very, very big guy.

“O-oh, sorry, mate,” he says, raising his hands defensively.

“It’s okay.” God, he sounds intimidating. “Doktor said you lost memory, yes?”

“Y-yeah. Uhh I was just heading… off.” Where should he even go?

“Come with Heavy. We go to the kitchen, grab a sandvich, then we can go to van if you want rest.”

“V-van?”

“Sorry,” the giant – Heavy – says, somewhat sheepishly. He relaxes a bit. “You live in van. Too tiny for me, but you seem to like it.” Heavy smirks at this. “You should have keys in pocket, Doktor said.”

He pats his vest’s pocket. Something metallic clinks in it.

“Oh.”

“Come, then,” Heavy says, and starts walking. He follows him to a room that looks like both a kitchen and a dining room, with an oven and a fridge and a countertop, and also a long wooden dining table with nine chairs messily arranged around it.

Heavy heads towards the fridge, opens it and bends over, searching for something. In the meantime, he takes his time to look around. It looks like someone’s been eating not long ago, the dishes still resting in the drier, dripping wet. He wonders if the food’s good around here. He wonders who’s the cook. Maybe they take turns.

He wonders for a moment if the doctor’s good at it.

He then wonders if _he’s_ any good at it.

“It was Heavy’s turn on the dishes,” Heavy says behind him. He turns around and sees him standing there, a plate of sandwiches in hand. “But Engineer took my place so I could check on Medic and you.” He shifts his gaze away for a moment, but it’s so quick he doubts he’s really seen it.

“Oh, that’s bloody nice of y’all.” He smiles, and grabs a sandwich. He takes a bite off it, and suddenly feels better. It’s delicious. “That’s one hell of a good sandwich, mate.”

“Sandvich makes anyone feel strong,” Heavy says with pride. He probably makes them; then, he’s a bloody genius.

“Yo, guys!” someone shouts from the door.

A thin boy is waving at them while walking towards them. He frowns, he sounds familiar…

Oh. It’s the guy who found him before.

“How are you doing, Snipes? You were looking, uhh, pretty terrible back there.”

“Wow, thanks, mate,” he says, sarcasm heavy in his voice. He must’ve made a pretty awful show, wherever that was.

“Don’t bother Sniper, little Scout,” Heavy warns.

“I wasn’t gonna, big guy! Er, sorry, man.”

“’T’s okay, mate.” He doesn’t care that much. He’s more grateful than anything. “Thanks for the help.”

“No problem!” Scout perks up. “So uhh… you don’t remember us?”

“I… actually, I don’t even remember myself for the most part.”

“Hell, that’s – not good. Very not good.”

“Yeah,” he says, looking down, panic rising up. What if… what if he never gets to remember?

“…Iper… Sniper!”

He’s being shaken by Heavy. Luckily he’s gentler than the soldier was because he’s pretty sure this guy could’ve shaken his head off with no problem.

“Damn, are you okay, Snipes? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he reassures them. “I just… sorry.”

“Don’t sweat it,” Scout shrugs it off, smirking. His eyes look worried anyways.

“You need rest,” Heavy states. He rises up, and extends a hand towards him; he accepts the help. “We go to van now, Sniper.”

“I…” He wants to ask them so many things. He wants to ask them about them, about himself; he wants to ask them about the loud soldier and the charming doctor, both who left him with more questions than answers. He wants to know what happened, what he did, who did this to him, why it sounds like someone among them is partially to blame.

But it’s true: his head hurts again, and he feels awfully tired for someone who was unconscious not long ago.

“Get back in shape, pally!”

He grimaces at the volume, but gives him a thumbs up.

He really, really hopes everything’s solved by next morning, though he doesn’t really expect it to be that easy.

\-----

It’s dark outside, and he can’t see clearly, but the van awakes something in him. He doesn’t have any clear memories, but something feels… right.

“I’ll leave you here,” Heavy says, watching him unlock its back door. “Do you need help or…”

“I’m okay, mate, don’t worry.” He’s starting to get very tired of the questions. He wonders if it’s the doctor’s particular er… power of persuasion, or if he’s looking just that awful. But Heavy and Scout’s worry sounded genuine, which… he doesn’t know if he likes or not.

“Well, good night, then.” He nods at him, and the giant retreats to the base again.

He looks at the open door.

He walks in, anticipation running in his veins.

He feels the left wall and almost instantly finds the light switch. The interior of the van gets illuminated by a small yellow light. And it’s…

He feels disappointed for not recognizing anything. He sees some magazines on a nearby table, a mini-fridge and a sink, a bed at the top back of the place and, oddly enough, some empty glass jars around the place.

He feels different, though.

It’s the first time since he woke up that he really feels like home.

The infirmary, for some reason, had also felt pretty familiar, but there was something that had been bothering him the whole time. As if something was… off. But the van feels as if it’d always been like this. It feels cozy, for all its minimalist appearance. There are some pictures – a pair of them featuring an old couple – and a calendar hanging off the walls. There’s also a small window on the right wall.

It’s simple, but it’s enough.

He suddenly feels all his exhaustion weight on him. He climbs up the ladder, ready to go to bed, and-

There’s a set of pictures on the wall next to the bed. In one of them, the doctor’s petting an owl, looking at it warmly. His heart twists, for reasons he can’t explain.

He needs to know more about this man.

But it’ll be a task for tomorrow.

For now, he gets underneath the covers, reaches for the second switch in the wall, next to the picture, and turns it off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas, Nova! \o/ I'm super extra sorry that I didn't get to finish your gift in time but uhhh it expanded on its own, somehow?? I promise I will finish it ASAP. I really hope you like it!
> 
> Written to Nova ([spacesucculant on Tumblr](https://spacesucculant.tumblr.com)) for Cat's TF2 Secret Santa 2018.
> 
> \-----
> 
> Edit #1: Uhh for the new ppl around - I'm a pretty slow writer and I'm gonna do my best to update as fast as I can but I usually prioritize quality over speed. I really hope you stay around to see the finale. If you wanna know when it updates, you can subscribe right on the top! Sorry for the inconvenience - especially Nova, whose gift's release is kinda extending progressively. I hope it'll be worth it.


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